The Journey of Legolas Greenleaf
by Celebgil Silverstar
Summary: Set during the time of 'The Hobbit' what Legolas is doing when Bilbo is at Mirkwood
1. A Beginning

Hi, I'm Celebgil Silverstar, major Tolkein fan and hopeless writer. This is my little contribution to Legolas' past. Ever wondered why Bilbo never mentions seeing Legolas when he was at the court of Mirkwood? Well with apologies to Professor Tolkein here is what I think happened. All mistakes regarding Legolas's age at the time of Bilbo's adventure, and the language and culture of elves are my own and for those I'm sorry.  
  
Chapter One-A Beginning  
  
In his halls in the deep shade of Northern Mirkwood, King Thranduil was disturbed by reports from scouts near the dominion of the Necromancer. He decided to send his youngest son Prince Legolas to seek the advice of the White Council at Isengard.  
L The horse galloped through the forest of Mirkwood. Far from the Necromancer's stronghold of Dol Guldur where evil and darkness still lurked, Mirkwood was a dim and cool place, perfect for riding.  
  
The Elf astride the horse whooped with joy as the horse's hoof beats grew ever more rapid. He was Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil and he was finally given his father's trust. Despite being older than the race of Men could possibly imagine, Legolas was still younger than many of his people and was only just held to have reached adulthood. His fair hair streamed out behind him and the bow on his back was wrought of fine Mallorn wood chased with mithril, Moria silver. At his belt he wore a pair of long handled white knives. He truly looked the son of an Elven King.  
  
His keen ears suddenly caught a light voice calling his name. He recognised the voice and wheeled his horse, glad to see the voice's owner.  
  
She stood on a low branch of a tree wearing a white robe girdled with sliver leaves, her feet were bare and her golden hair shone like a star as it hung about her pale face. She was Nefwathiel, daughter of Thranduil's chief adviser. Her name meant beautiful song and she was true to it. Her voice was like the song of the waters of Nimrodel so it was said, and although Legolas had never seen that fair stream he could well believe it.  
  
"Greetings Legolas, or should it be a farewell?" she said with a smile in her voice.  
  
"Nefwathiel, I am glad to see you before I go. My father sends me to Isengard to speak on his behalf with Saruman and the White Council. I may not return for many days. I was loath to go without seeing you again but my father' business is urgent and you were nowhere to be found." said Legolas as he dismounted and walked over to her. "My Prince, such concern moves me to wonder why!" she laughed and leaped lightly from the tree.  
  
"Why so formal Nefwathiel? Surely we have known each other long enough! I wanted to say goodbye and to give you this in case I do not return." so saying, he pulled a silver chain from around his neck and handed it to her. For a moment it seemed that the light of the stars of Elbereth had appeared in the forest, and then it suddenly dimmed as her hand closed over it.  
  
In her cupped hands lay a pendant, fashioned from clear crystal, in the shape of a teardrop. In the very centre the stone was milky white and shone as brightly as the stars. Nefwathiel gasped in astonishment.  
  
"Why Legolas, is this mission so perilous that you entrust to me your greatest treasure? This pendant has never left your neck since..." she trailed off awkwardly, leaving the phrase hanging.  
  
"Since my mother was slain, it is all right you can say it. The pain is not so near as it was." his voice belied his words however, the gladness seemed to melt away and the forest suddenly felt much colder and darker.  
  
"My quest may be dangerous. We have had reports of Orcs roaming near Isengard so I thought it best to give the pendant to you for safekeeping. If it fell into Orkish hands I could never forgive myself." he took the pendant from her again and placed the chain around her slender neck. Then he leaped astride his horse and with a final "Namárië Nefwathiel!" galloped off towards the edge of Mirkwood. Long after he had gone, she still stood there gazing after him. "Namárië Legolas, you must succeed, for all our sakes."  
  
L He crested a rise and halted the horse to turn and look back over the green fastness of Mirkwood. He was far away now, a day's ride for the horses of men. From here he could see where the realm of Thranduil ended and the darkness began. Smoke rose in a seemingly endless plume over the Tower of Dol Guldur, and Legolas feared for the land of his birth.  
  
He shook the doubt from his mind and turned to ride again. He dug his heels into the horse's smooth flanks and it leapt over the ridge to land on the Old Forest Road at a gallop. He wanted to reach shelter before nightfall. Although he could see as well at night as he could in sunlight, there were orcs roaming the plains of Middle Earth after dark. He did not fear them, they were clumsy and slow, but he feared the hand that created and guided them.  
  
By sunset he had crossed the Anduin, the Great River, by one of the old fords, and reached the Chithaiglir, known as the Misty Mountains in the tongue of men. He sought for a cave in which to pass the night, and before long he had found one. Leaving his horse tethered near a stream to let the animal slake his thirst, he went in search of firewood. When he returned with an armload of wood, he built a fire, to keep away the wargs that roamed the mountains, then rolled himself in his cloak and slept. He was awoken by the sound of fell voices. Even from a distance he recognized the foul, guttural sound of the common speech distorted and mangled by the tongues of orcs. "Yrch!" he said to himself, and silently put out his fire.  
  
As he left the cave, he fitted an arrow to his bow and looked in the direction of the voices. He saw the small bright flames of torches and heard the orcs talking amongst themselves. They used the common speech so he could understand most of what they said.  
  
"Bâzlakh you son of a warg, where's this accursed light you say you saw?" growled one voice.  
  
"It was there before Grimzakh, I swear it was there. Up on the mountain somewhere around here." protested another voice, presumably Bâzlakh.  
  
"Well let's keep searching, if they've put out their fire they must be around here somewhere. Anyway, it might be one of those men, I've heard their flesh tastes better than any, and I'm hungry!" said a third, licking his lips greedily.  
  
"You're always hungry Maughash!" Grimzakh said, pushing his companion into a ditch.  
  
Legolas cursed under his breath, he should have known better than to make fire in orc country. Now they were hunting him.  
  
Creeping forward, still in cover he took aim at the nearest orc and fired. His aim was true and with a gurgling cry an orc fell to the ground, an arrow through its throat. His arrows felled three more of them before they were even aware of his presence. When they realized that they were being attacked, the orcs drew their scimitars and charged towards the spot where the shafts were coming from. Legolas broke cover and ran at them. He drew his long knives as he sprinted towards what seemed to be the leader. His first blow was parried with a force that jarred his arm painfully but he lunged again and felt the blade slice through the tough hide. The foul creature screamed in agony as he withdrew his blade from its belly. It fell forward, almost on top of him; it's black, sticky blood covering his hands. He spun to deal with the others but as he did so he felt burning pain across his back and he screamed. A wild slash of an orc scimitar had found its mark and torn the flesh open in a long ragged cut.  
  
Legolas was badly wounded, but forced himself to remain conscious. They had scented blood now and came at him, baying and shrieking, their eyes glinting with dark malice. He was surrounded but refused to yield to the dark power that commanded the orcs. His knives flashed and gleamed, as fast as lightning. He slew the remaining orcs finally, after a brutal fight that left him weary and hurt.  
  
Seeing the field empty he painfully hauled himself back to the cave and passed out on the floor from pain and exhaustion.  
  
L  
  
When he awoke it was morning, he did not know of which day. His back felt sore but he had been lucky, it was not a poisoned blade or he would have been dead within hours.  
  
The cut had closed over, but he bathed in the stream to cleanse it anyway. He washed the orc's blood from his hands; its acrid smell filled the air as it touched the water, sizzling.  
  
He bound his wound with clean linen and gingerly replaced his garments. Wincing as he slung his bow over his shoulder, he re-mounted his horse and turned towards the plains to continue his journey. 


	2. A Meeting

Chapter Two- A Meeting  
  
Days passed and he continued to skirt the mountains. He did not allow himself to enter the golden wood of Lothlorien, as he knew that he would tarry too long in that fair place. Delaying would place his homeland in even greater danger. Sometimes leading his horse over rougher ground, he passed into the mountains for a while to avoid Lothlorien.  
  
He greatly desired to have speech with Celeborn and Galadriel, the lord and lady of the Golden Wood as he felt that they would have counsel and advice for Thranduil. He remembered tales told to him in childhood of the Lady's foresight and wisdom. His mother would never have lied to him; Galadriel's power could help them now, if only she were asked. But his instructions from Thranduil were to go to Isengard for help, with all speed.  
  
Had his father not sent him to Isengard, he would have gone to Lothlorien to ask for guidance. As it was however, he continued into the mountains to carry out his mission.  
L After travelling for many days, he came to the forest of Fangorn and felt its unease. He did not go into the forest but rode around the edge. The more direct route through the old wood could have been dangerous, as orcs were everywhere. He had come across more marauding bands at night but these had passed him by as he now forbore from making fire.  
  
Finally he could see the tower of Orthanc, rising out of the hollow of Isengard in the distance. It stood against the sky like a tall black sword, cleaving the horizon in two. It was a haven of learning. The Istari, the White Council studied and debated within the walls, and in the midst of it, closeted in the Tower, was Saruman the White, leader of the council and great wizard. He was said to be wiser even than Mithrandir, the Grey Wanderer, who was held in high regard by many.  
  
Legolas resolved to reach Isengard by the evening of that day, he could feel the darkness reaching out from the Necromancer's stronghold, and time was short. A chill was in the air, and the plumes of smoke from Dol Guldur had grown blacker and were tinged at the base with red flame.  
  
He kicked sharply at his horse's sides and the animal reared and sprang forwards in one fluid movement. Sensing his urgency it galloped faster than ever before, faster than mortal eyes could follow. But one eye saw, one eye followed them, one flaming red eye in the darkness of Southern Mirkwood. It watched and its owner laughed, a low scraping sound, like metal grating on metal. A terrible sound, but no one heard, not Thranduil in his green halls, not Saruman in Orthanc, and not Legolas on horseback galloping over the Plain of Rohan.  
  
At last the gates of Isengard loomed before him, he slowed his horse to a walk, raised his voice and cried: "My Lords of Isengard! I come from Mirkwood to bring news and a plea for help from my people. Will you grant me admittance to put my request to the council?" As he finished his salutation, he saw movement in a window high in the wall.  
  
"The council is in session, debating an important topic but you are welcome to enter and wait." A high voice called down in reply. The great gates slowly swung open although touched by no hand.  
  
Legolas dismounted and led his horse towards the threshold of Isengard. An ominous feeling stole over him as he entered but he shrugged it off, no one could enter a place of such power and not feel disquiet.  
  
Standing in shadow to one side of the gateway was a tall shape in a hooded cloak. As the figure stepped forward, hands outstretched in greeting, the hood fell back, revealing a young woman's pale face. Glowing in the whiteness of her oval face, were two huge blue eyes, startlingly bright. They seemed to see right through him. They were fringed by long dark lashes, in stark contrast to the paleness of her face. Her hair was cropped short and a colour that he had not seen in any elf, the colour of burnished bronze. Legolas stood in astonishment; he had encountered the race of men before but this girl was unlike any he had ever seen.  
  
She smiled in welcome, "Welcome Master Elf. I am Andlothiel the keeper of the gate. May I know your name?"  
  
Hearing her name, he started in surprise, "You have an elvish name? Yet you are of the race of men, how is that so?" he asked the question almost without thinking.  
  
"My mother became great friends with Gandalf the Grey as a child. I believe he taught her the elvish letters. Now Master Elf, having found out my family history, will you tell me your name or shall I continue questioning forever?" She laughed as she replied.  
  
Had he been human he would have blushed; he was his father's emissary and yet was behaving like a child. Hurriedly he answered, trying to restore his face to its customary solemnity.  
  
"Forgive me; my name is Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood. I am sent to ask advice of the White Council."  
  
"You are Prince Legolas?" she asked in astonishment. He nodded and was alarmed to see her cover her face with her hands and burst into tears. She fell to the ground and wept bitterly. He dropped to his knees beside her.  
  
"Why are you crying?" he asked, worried and not at all sure what to do with this sobbing girl.  
  
She sniffed and raised tearful eyes to look him in the face. "Lord Saruman will be angry with me." She said, with a quiver in her voice. "I was instructed to send word immediately that high lords were sighted. I saw you over an hour ago and had I not neglected my duty, one of the Istari would have been here to greet you."  
  
Legolas was still puzzled by her weeping. She had seemed afraid of something. "Surely that is not worth crying over." He said, attempting to soothe the tearful girl.  
  
"You don't understand. I shall be punished if Lord Saruman hears of this. He will send me back to my stepfather in Dunland. I will no longer be allowed to learn in the city, all my studying will be in vain!" she began to sob again.  
  
"You are a scholar, and my rank will prevent you from studying? Well then, I shall not be a prince." He paused for a moment, trying to think of a false name.  
  
"Announce me to Lord Saruman as Veborion, a messenger from Mirkwood. Don't interrupt the council though. I shall wait until the debate has finished. Tell me, what are they discussing?" he inquired.  
  
"I believe it has something to do with Mirkwood actually. How convenient!" she said airily, her worries lifted from her by his words.  
  
Suddenly alert, he pressed for more detail. "Have you heard anything of what they have been saying?" he asked, trying to conceal his eagerness for the answer.  
  
"They mentioned Dol Guldur and the Necromancer earlier. I was serving the mid-day meal and Gandalf was speaking about an attack on the tower." She said, interested now, having picked up on the urgency in his voice.  
  
He breathed a huge sigh of relief; this was exactly what he had been hoping for. "Andlothiel, they are debating the very threat that I was sent here to inform them of and beg for their assistance. Although I no longer need to speak before the council to request that help, I should stay to wait for their final decision." He said, the relief evident in his demeanor. However he could not relax just yet, he knew that the council had not yet decided and that anything could happen in a debate of such magnitude. His lips moved in a silent invocation to the Valar, Yavanna. She the lover of growing things would not suffer her work, or the work of Illuvatar to be corrupted by evil. 


	3. The White Council

Chapter Three-The White Council He waited for days, wandering aimlessly through the city. Sometimes he talked with Andlothiel or some of the lesser wizards, who were not involved in the deliberations. Mostly though he sat alone in a hall with a high vaulted ceiling and many statues bathed in coloured light from high windows. He restlessly paced the hall, cursorily examining the statues of Elven lords and kings of men from days gone by.  
  
Sometimes he sat on a stone bench and thought of Mirkwood, his forest home. In his mind he was running again through the cool shadows and dappled shade, walking through the green halls of his father, and greeting Nefwathiel. Always though he had to come back to the interminable wait, the Istari had been closeted for over a week behind the closed doors of the council chamber and still no word had come from within. He had lived for nearly three thousand years, but still the waiting wearied him.  
  
Finally however a messenger ran through the huge wooden doors of the hall shouting: "Sir, sir! The council has come to a decision, Lord Saruman and Gandalf wish to speak with you at once!" the man stopped, clearly exhausted from running.  
  
Legolas jumped to his feet, and in three strides had crossed the room and was out of the door at a run. The messenger turned to follow him but Legolas was already so far down the corridor that it would be useless to go after him.  
  
He skidded into the ante-room of the audience chamber and almost collided with Andlothiel. He stepped back, searching her face for a trace of emotion that would betray knowledge of the council's decision. There was none, she looked nervous and hopeful but obviously had not been told of the outcome.  
  
She took his hands in hers and looked him in the eye, seriously. "I hope the decision they made will save Mirkwood." she said and then smoothed her long green velvet gown, and moved a stand of his long fair hair into place. They both turned to face the double doors. The white doors began to open, again seemingly of their own volition. They stepped forward into a light airy room with high windows. The two Maiar were sitting in tall chairs facing the door, Saruman, all in white with long white hair and beard, and Mithrandir wearing a robe the colour of ashes, his hair and beard long and grey.  
  
Legolas suddenly remembered that he had met Gandalf once before, many years ago when he came to Mirkwood, he hoped against hope that he would not recognise him for who he was.  
  
"My Lords, this is Master Veborion, a messenger from King Thranduil of Mirkwood." said Andlothiel, tangibly afraid.  
  
Saruman spoke, "You may leave us now Andlothiel, return to your gate duties." The girl bowed and left the room quickly, not daring to look back.  
  
The wizards turned to Legolas, almost in unison. Mithrandir got to his feet and with a glint in his eye that showed his recognition he said: "Have we not met before Master Veborion? I was in Mirkwood, long ago, and by my count, some friends of mine should be entering there at this very moment. I have some recollection of your face." It was an act, Legolas decided, he knew precisely who Legolas was and for whatever reason, he chose to keep his secret from Saruman. Legolas tried to signal his gratitude through his voice and said: "My lord, I believe you met me at the court of King Thranduil when I was an attendant for the prince." The lie slipped easily from his tongue and Saruman seemed satisfied that the story was genuine.  
  
Gandalf sat back down and surreptitiously winked at the elf standing before him. He did not know why the prince was using a false name but it would be for a good reason, so he would keep the secret and remember to speak with him later.  
  
Saruman cleared his throat and began, "Master Veborion, I believe you have been here for some time, awaiting our decision. The council has decided." here he paused and looked to Mithrandir who nodded shortly, ".to storm the Tower of Dol Guldur and return the Necromancer to the East, where he can do no further harm." In his heart, Legolas rejoiced, but outside, he remained calm. He thanked the Istari, on behalf of Thranduil, and then turned to go. He had just reached the doors when Saruman called him back. His heart sank, Saruman had recognised him, or his bearing had not befitted a messenger. The wizard held out a package.  
  
"Give this to Prince Legolas when you return to Mirkwood." he commanded. "I cannot speak with him but this contains a gift from the White Council that will help him in his duties in years to come." Legolas took the package wordlessly, bowed to both wizards and left the room. Andlothiel was waiting just outside, she ran to his side and looked at his face, for some sign, some trace of emotion that would show her what had transpired, but all she saw was his handsome face, totally devoid of all emotion.  
  
"What happened? Tell me!" she cried impetuously. He placed a finger to his lips, gestured behind him, to the doors that were only now beginning to close. They walked together from the ante-room and out on to the ramparts. When he judged that they were far enough away from anyone who might overhear them, he allowed his face to split into a warm smile, and then he chuckled, a soft peal of delighted laughter.  
  
"They are going to help us!" he cried, hardly able to contain his joy. He pulled her to him and she buried her face in the breast of his tunic. The embrace was that of friends, of comrades after a long battle, of brother and sister. It was all and none of these.  
  
They remained so for what seemed an age, until the sun on their backs shadowed and became starlight. An owl hooted and suddenly they heard the creak of the huge main gates. Legolas and Andlothiel looked over the wall, to see twelve shining horses leave the great city. Twelve riders, their multicoloured robes shaded silver by the moon, with staffs in hand urged their beasts onward. North, towards Mirkwood they rode, and there was a purpose in their ride such as neither of them had ever seen before. At the head of the column rode two abreast, one in shimmering white, and one who seemed to blend in with the dark ground. The grey rider held a glimmering blade aloft. Glamdring, the foe hammer!  
  
Such was the height of the wall, that they saw the column reach the dark of Mirkwood. At some unspoken command, each wizard raised his staff in unison and a great burst of light swallowed the procession of Istari. The light was blue, and green, and white. It was gold and silver, it was all colours and yet a colour all of its own. It blazed towards the blackness of Northern Mirkwood and an enormous explosion shook the world. A red and black flame shot from where Legolas assumed Dol Guldur to be and fled Eastwards, growing fainter and fainter, until at last, it vanished. 


	4. A Parting

Chapter Four: A Parting They remained, frozen to the spot until they saw from out of the gloom of midnight, the column of mounted wizards returning. Each seemed to ride slower however, as though drained by the night's events.  
  
It was only then that they realised how exhausted each of them was. They murmured a parting word and then left for their own beds.  
  
Legolas watched her go down the steps before him, her long gown brushing over the stone stairway and knew he would have to leave. He could not stay here, or he would grow to love her and then it would be impossible to return to Mirkwood without her. As a friend it was easier to leave, as a beloved, it would be out of the question. Never could an Elven prince marry a mortal woman, unless he forfeited his immortality, as Luthien did for her beloved.  
  
He gathered his belongings, retrieved his horse, then tethered it just inside the gates and went to take his leave of Andlothiel. He entered her room, quietly lest he startle her, but the candle was out and a shaft of moonlight picked out her sleeping face on the pillow. She looked peaceful and he did not dare wake her. His heart heavy with guilt and loss, he stepped closer to her slumbering form and smoothed the covers over her. He let his lips brush hers in a parting kiss, then spun on his heel and left the room, cuffing tears away from his eyes.  
  
He was ashamed; slipping away in the night like a thief felt wrong, but how could he do otherwise? He could not fall in love with this woman. As he was about to mount his horse, he felt a presence behind him, he whirled and saw an old man, his face shadowed, beneath a tall blue hat, wearing grey robes and leaning on a staff.  
  
"Legolas, leaving us so soon?" said the man, and Legolas knew the voice. It was Mithrandir.  
  
"I must." He replied, hiding his eyes from view under the hood of his cloak. "I cannot fall in love with her, Mithrandir. I cannot!"  
  
Mithrandir stepped towards him. "No my boy, you cannot fall in love with her. I see a different path for you in future years. One that will decide the fortunes of every creature in Middle Earth. Go. Return to your father, it will not be long before he has need of you. She will understand, I will speak with her in the morning."  
  
Legolas nodded once, took a step closer to Mithrandir, who grasped his hand then clapped him on the shoulder. "Go." He repeated, then stepped back into the shadow of a wall. Legolas mounted his horse, wheeled the animal round, and galloped out of the gate.  
  
The wizard watched him go, and raised his right hand in farewell. A ring, with a red stone flashed once and then was hidden again by the sleeve of his robe.  
  
LEL For days he rode, over the plain, through the mountains, until he reached the Anduin. He came to a ford, and halted for a moment to look back. The tower still bisected the skyline like a hole in reality, somewhere within those walls, was Andlothiel whom he would never see again.  
  
He urged his horse onward, through the freezing water and on to the opposite bank. Two more days, and he was trotting into the outskirts of Mirkwood. He dropped from his horse's back and walked among the trees, leading the beast. Suddenly he heard a voice, singing alone. He could just discern the words of the song:  
  
"An Elven maid there was of old  
A shining star by day:  
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,  
Her shoes of silver-grey."  
  
It was Nefwathiel, singing the song of Nimrodel. He had known her from a child, and could tell her voice as soon as he heard it. His heavy heart lightened a little, at the prospect of seeing his childhood friend again.  
  
Her voice stopped for a moment and he heard rustling, she was coming closer, had somehow heard his silent steps, so he chimed in with the next lines of the old song, to show his identity:  
  
"A star was bound upon her brows,  
A light was on her hair,  
As sun upon the golden boughs  
In Lorien the fair."  
  
He heard a delighted gasp, then running as she made for the spot where she had heard the familiar voice. Smiling, he sat on a low bough and waited for her.  
  
"Legolas!" she cried, overjoyed to see her childhood friend safe, after such a long time. She flew into his arms and embraced him fiercely. He looked into her eyes and saw relief, mixed with worry.  
  
"Your father is not here," she replied to his unspoken question. "He has left, to fight with the men of Esgaroth against the dwarves at the Lonely Mountain of Erebor. The last messenger they sent back though, said that the goblins and orcs of the mountains had risen up, and the force was united with the dwarves to face them. I have seen the eagles fly over the forest, and heard the roar of Beorn and his bears also, I fear for them."  
  
He had no fear for his father, who was a noble warrior. He had beaten goblins before, and even faced the Dark Lord Sauron, with Gil-Galad and Elrond Halfelven. He held her tightly to try and convey some of his trust to her.  
  
"He will triumph, as he has always triumphed." He said, reassuringly, spending so much time with mortals had heightened his empathy with other's emotions. She seemed to take his words as comfort, for her face eased and she smiled once more. He took her hand, and they walked away, leading his horse, to the green halls of the Wood Elves. L 


End file.
